Daughter of Earth
by Avriella
Summary: "This is the Arkenstone of Thrain," said Bilbo, "the Heart of the Mountain; and it is also the heart of Thorin. He values it above a river of gold..." But why? Thorin/OFC. Bits and pieces from before Smaug's arrival in Erebor, Thorin's return, and beyond.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Third Age 2770 Erebor

Hidden in the pines that littered the path from the mountain kingdom of the dwarves to the city of men that was nestled in its massive shadow, Amarien pulled the hood of her cloak up over her head. With great care and determination she waited for a particular dwarf to pass her by before she stepped out to follow his decent from the mountain and into the streets of Dale. There was something of Thrain the Old in him, a quiet strength and depth of knowledge that belied his age. He was but twenty-four winters, his beard nothing but dark stubble on his chin, and already possessed the qualities of a good ruler. Amarien was on a mission today to determine if he had the same superstitions as his kin of late. She could not blame them for their mistrust of her, especially now as the only time they took any notice of her was when dire events happened. How she missed speaking with them as she did in the days of old, being part of their council and helping them to prosper. Now she was but an ill omen, blamed when things went awry. Still she loved all of the dwarves and missed the days when she was counted among the family of Durin's line.

Amarien slowed her steps with caution as her query paused in his powerful stride. Already his developed warrior senses were triggered and he surveyed the crowd milling about. She frowned when his eyes passed over her and with a flick determined her to be a non-threat. For several years now she hid from them, not wishing to cause upset, but a small spark of hope kindled in her heart. His disregard for her presence made her think that he may not believe in the myths. Perhaps that fearful and often times angry glean that appeared in the eyes of those before him would not appear in his sapphire gaze.

The pause in his step did not last long. When she continued to follow he was already much further ahead of her. His midnight hair a sharp contrast to all the bright colors surrounding him. She picked up the pace to catch up with him, her steps becoming loud to her ears as they impacted with the cobbled stone streets. Rounding a corner leading into the market square of Dale, she stumbled to a sudden stop. There stood Thrain, son of Thror, and her query's father. Thrain was not as oblivious to her presence as his son, Thorin, had been. His stormy eyes looked around his son, through the crowded stone streets surrounded by their stone buildings with colorful banners, and found hers in the midst of the people of Dale. There was no mistaking that look, mostly hatred and a healthy dose of fear lurking in the cloudy depths; a gaze that brought forth the now familiar heartache in her chest. She missed her beloved dwarves so.

Amarien looked away and made for the nearest alley as quickly as she could. He would not follow her, as following her, they thought, was looking for trouble. She paused beneath the back door of one of the many toymakers shops, waiting for her heartache to lessen. When it did not she knew something was wrong beyond her relationship with Durin's folk. Not only had she failed to reveal herself to Thorin, the dread churning in her stomach of late only increased. Fear gripped her. With a quick prayer to her maker she sprinted for the mountain, hoping there was yet time to prove the myth wrong and still whatever doom awaited those of the Lonely Mountain.

For his part, Thorin frowned when seeing the look that crossed his father's face. He followed his father's gaze through the busy streets and only caught the glimpse of a silvery cloak as the bearer rounded a corner into the alley. Looking back to his father he frowned with a questioning glance.

"It is nothing," Thrain said, placing a hand on his shoulder, "let us be done with this trading so we may return home. Dale is not appealing this day."

Thorin followed his father quietly as it would not do to argue with him when he was in such a sudden, but sour mood. Thorin and his father always thought of Dale as appealing. The city thrived in its place beside his people in the mountain. People came from distant lands to see the wares in its market. The toymakers alone were legendary. Add to that the tutelage of the dwarves that the cities craftsman often sought in their pursuits, and the market square became something quite wondrous. Some of the most beautiful things in Middle Earth could be found there. The stone city, bleached by the sun, made the colorful kites, flowers, fabrics, and jewels all that more brilliant. It made Thorin even more curious as to why his father was angry and ready to leave.

The people of Dale were familiar with Durin's folk and the presence of his father. It was no surprise that they were also familiar with Thrain's moods. The sudden widened pathway through the square that led to the Lord of Dale's residence only confirmed that.

It was not long after their arrival in the study of Girion, the Lord of Dale, that he too was able to judge Thrain's mood, though he did not shrink away. Time had withered and grayed the Lord of Dale but he was still an impressive human. Thorin often wondered how formidable the man might have been in the prime of his life.

Girion had many dealing with the dwarves in his near seventy years, so it was no surprise to Thorin when his temper flared as well. "My people will not face the winter short of food because you wish more than originally agreed up!" Girion voice grew louder within the chamber they negotiated in. He stood parchments in hand, to finish yelling. "All because of your foul mood Thrain son of Thror!" With that, Thorin watched his father glower at the man before turning on his booted heal and storming out the door. Thorin rose to follow, "Let this be a lesson to you young prince," Girion said throwing parchments to his desk in frustration, "do not enter negotiations in such a mood as wars have been started over less." With a sigh the man seemed to run out of steam and plopped back into his chair looking weary, stopping Thorin as he reached for the door, "Tell you father I will give him half more of the crops agreed upon so that all of us will make it through the winter in relative comfort, but I will need additional swords and armor in return."

Nodding his head, Thorin left the Lord of Dale to his thoughts, thankful that the relationship between them was not too tarnished. Thorin sighed. They needed each other. Crops were not grown within the mountain and Dale had those. Just as metal was not found in the valleys, the dwarves supplied those. On his trek back to the mountain his mind again turned to the silvery cloak he had seen. Surely whoever wore that cloak was the cause of all of this discord in his father. That was the only explanation. The why of it would likely not be answered any time soon though, knowing his father, he would have to search for the answers on his own. It was this thought the led him through the now darkened if quiet alleys of Dale in hopes of getting but a glimpse of the culprit. However he returned to the halls of the Lonely Mountain without any success.

Thorin acknowledged the guards as he passed through the massive stone gates of the mountain. They were ever watchful of his home, Erebor, the Lonely Mountain. The great dwarven city contained within that single solitary peak. Countless dwarves had dug deep into the mountain in search of the precious metals and stones it held. They left behind massive columns, glorious mansions, and grand halls that Thorin now walked through to the throne room that displayed the work of their most excellent craftsman.

It did not take long to determine who was within the chamber, when he heard the echo of his father's voice at the tail end of a statement. "… Ill Omen I say!"

"It is a myth, nothing more," the familiar baritone of his grandfather, Thror's voice, though calm, carried through the chamber just as well.

"How can you say that? After Mother!" Thrain dared to yell back at his own father, being the only one ever to do so to the King under the Mountain. Sorrow had replaced the ire in his father's voice, "or my wife!"

Thorin dared to look into the chamber at the mention of his mother. She had passed beyond this life but ten years before, not long after the birth of his sister. The memory of her was still fresh in his mind. In the chamber he saw his father, defeat in his shoulders as he looked away. No one had noticed Thorin's presence, not even his grandfather. As always Thror was sitting upon his throne, his most precious things; the ancient ring handed down through the generations of rulers on his hand glinting in the light. The ring was second only to the Arkenstone; the precious jewel that rested in its setting within the throne. The many facets of the great gem made it sparkle in different whites depending upon the light.

Thror fidgeted with the ring on his aged hand with increasing frequency and looked to his son and mumbled, "Coincidence, nothing more." With that statement, Thorin watched the strength return to his father as he took long strides to leave the chamber. Only then did Thorin enter and let his presence be known and bowed his head in respect to his grandfather. "Ah, Thorin. My grandson. Let us hope you take after your mother!" Thror said cheerfully. "Come, what news from Dale. All is well I hope?" Thror asked, looking back down to the ring on his finger.

Thorin followed the movement for a moment before answering, "Girion is a bit ruffled but escaped without injury though his age is catching up with him," Thorin paused and frowned as his grandfathers distraction became yet more apparent. "He offered half more in addition to the already agreed upon for the winter," he finished, watching his grandfather closely, as he had grown increasingly odd of late.

"Good, good." Thror said, glancing back at Thorin. "Make sure and tell your father, though I would wait a day or two."

Thorin bowed his head in respect again saying, "Wise words, of course." He left the throne room then seeking out his own chambers. Though he paused to glance back at his grandfather only to see, as expected, he had left as well. Shaking his head, Thorin was certain his grandfather left the throne room to gaze upon the treasures amassed deep within the mountain. It was the only other place he would go anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Before Thorin could reach his chamber he caught sight of a silvery fabric out of the corner of his eye. With a sharp turn of his head he watched it travel down a distant corridor and out of sight. He ran to catch it before it turned any of the other numerous corridors and stairwells losing him. Though he knew these halls as well as the back of his hand, the place was massive and easy to get lost in for any unfamiliar with it. It also made it incredibly difficult at times to find someone when they wished not to be found.

The silvery bit of cloth led him on a worthy chase through the mountain, but eventually he caught up with it and its bearer. "Stop!" he shouted down the darkened corridor, and was pleased when the person stopped and turned to him with hesitancy. Still they would not step into the light and reveal them self. "Come into the light and remove your hood," Thorin commanded, his voice deepening with his resolve to identify the intruder within his domain. It was a puzzle to him how any stranger might be able to slip passed the guards unseen.

With halting movements, the figure stepped into the light and removed the hood, but keeping their head downcast. All that could be seen was a mass of wavy hair. It shined in the torchlight with shades of gold, copper, and sparse thin threads of silver. With a deep sigh the intruder slowly raised its face to the light, eyes closed on a face that did not match the silver of hair. It was young, expressionless and pale. The features he saw where delicate, female, and not dwarven. Generous pink lips, a slender nose, thin arched brows over eyes that only now opened.

Thorin's breath caught for a moment and believed his eyes were being tricked by the dim light. Within the stone grey of her gaze sparked all the jewels he had ever laid eyes upon, in flecks of blues, greens, yellows, and reds flashing in the flickering light. He blinked, and asked just above a whisper, "What is your name?"

The beat of his heart skipped in his chest as a smile spread across her face and pure joy flashed in her enchanting eyes. Her voice was soft and musical to his ears, "You have spoken to me," she whispered with surprise taking a small step toward him but still an arm's length away, "I am called Amarien."

"Are you an elf then?" Thorin asked, his hand reaching of its own accord for a wisp of her hair within his reach. She pulled away with a nervous movement, but stilled herself allowing him the moment to explore his curiosity. It was not as coarse or thick as he thought it might have been, indeed it was as the softest thread he ever felt.

There was a shy smirk on her face when she answered, "I am too stout and have not the ears for it."

Thorin moved the hair in his hand to reveal delicate rounded ears before she pulled away from him. "Human?"

She smiled with indulgence, "Nay. I am much too short," she said. It was true she was shorter than he, coming only to his shoulders, though he was tall for a dwarf as many of Durin's line had been.

"Halfling perhaps because you are not of dwarf-kind," he said matter-of-factly.

There was a small tinkling of laughter as she folded her hands in front of her. It was a pleasant sound that he would not mind hearing again. "I have neither the temperament nor appetite to be a Halfling. I would call myself closer to Durin's folk than one might think."

"Then perhaps I should call you witch or sorceress for you have certainly spelled me…" Thorin left the rest of the flowery statement unsaid before a frown crossed his brow, "How else would you travel these halls unnoticed by the guards?"

"Nothing as grand as all that," she said with a nervous laugh. "I have ever dwelled in this mountain except for a brief time spent with your kin in the Grey Mountains," her smile faded then and a deep chilling sorrow started to fill her eyes, "I go unnoticed by most should I choose as some would see me as an ill omen."

"The Grey Mountains were overrun with dragons long ago," Thorin said, suspicion was growing in his mind but so was a sense of awe. "Surely you were not there," his awe was creeping into his voice and he gave up trying to hide it once considering all the tales she could tell if it were true. "You would have to be well over five hundred winters!"

With a sad smile, she replied, "You are you still, my lord prince," there was a brief sound of amusement from her before she finished her statement; "you will learn not to accuse a woman of her age."

"Forgive me then as I have my doubts," Thorin said with what he hoped was a kind smile.

"I care not," she said with a wave of her hand and no offence taken. "I am ageless and you do well to doubt me. I must say I would rather have your doubts than your scorn."

The spell was broken as Thorin remembered why he chased her, though there was no anger in his voice when he asked, "It was you at market today. You are the one that angered my father."

"That was not my intent," she said stepping back from him. She was quiet for a moment as if determining what to say. "I seek only to warn those I can." She turned and started to walk down the corridors, leaving Thorin with no choice but to follow her.

"Warn of what?" Thorin asked. The kingdom was prosperous and living in peace. "Is it my grandfather? He has been strange of late. It is as if he cannot determine what is more precious to him his ring, his stone or his treasure. It did not used to be so," Thorin said thoughtfully keeping stride with her but stopped when she suddenly did.

The full force of her gaze was on him, "You are observant, but no. I cannot deny that my king has weighed heavily on my mind for the reasons you say. As if a slow growing weed, taking root in my heart. I fear it will need to be dealt with soon, but that is not the cause of my warning. This is sudden and swift in coming and utterly unlike anything I have felt before." Amarien continued down the corridor then.

"What is it, if not that?" Thorin asked there were no reports from anywhere of anything out of the ordinary that he was aware.

Amarien gripped his offered arm as they climbed steps leading closer to his chambers, her voice was just above a whisper now and he had to strain to hear all she said. "I cannot name this dread for I do not know it. It is deep and chilling. Not the chill you feel from a winter about to set in or even that of the wind in the middle of a snow storm. It is a chill that freezes my heart and takes my breath as if reaching to my very soul." Her voice caught a little as if it was doing so at that moment.

Thorin looked away and gathered himself, questioning whether or not to believe the strange woman, beauty though she was. He felt deep down he should, but his mind was arguing with him. "And what is there to be done about this unknown threat?"

Amarien stopped in front of his door, "Be vigilant and wary. I fear it will be known soon." Her gaze captured him again, her hands reaching up to his cheeks though barley touching him. "Keep close to your kin, and sharp eye on your brother and sister. Dis is so young she will need you."

"There is protection within the mountain. We are safe here," Thorin found himself saying, trying to ease the sorrow and fear in her eyes as he gently gripped her wrist. He did not want to lose her company as of yet.

With a sad smile she looked up at him, "That is my hope, my lord prince." She glanced at his father's door for a moment before looking back at him. She closed her eyes and rose up on her toes. Without thought Thorin closed his eyes and dropped his head to hers. There was a pang of disappointment in his chest as she brushed her lips delicately across his cheek in a chaste almost motherly kiss. She whispered while pulling away from him, "Keep safe."

When he opened his eyes she was gone. It happened so fast he wondered if perhaps she vanished into thin air. Before he could ponder it any further his father's door opened. Thrain looked as if sleep had eluded him for too long. "Father?"

Thrain shook his head as if to clear the fog of sleep, or lack thereof from it before looking at Thorin, "Aye, I need to look in on Dis," Thrain mumbled.

Thorin stopped him, "I will do it. Rest, you will need your wits about you to deal with Girion."

Thorin heard his father mumble something about the grim old man before his chamber door shut. With a smile Thorin turned for his sister's room and entered quietly wishing not to disturb her sound slumber. He sat in the chair near her bed going over the events of the day. Soon sleep took him but his dreams were of screams and fire.

**Authors Note: Thank you for all the follows, favorites, and reviews! I hope you enjoyed and I look foward toany comments or questions.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Amarien was pleased that Thorin had taken her words seriously and kept a close eye on his kin; Especially Dis and Frerin, his brother of but nineteen winters. She wished that the same could be said for the rest. Dread was growing in her heart and there was little she could do now. She had become desperate, even going as far as to boldly grab Thror's arm as he traveled the darkened corridors from his treasure to his throne. He simply pulled away from her and ignored anything she said. She was quickly running out of options and realized that she would have to approach Thrain, though she would likely get the same result.

The thoughts running through her mind led her to the Front Gate. There all was quiet and she could think for a moment. As she stood upon the massive structure she looked down. The city of Dale sparkled in the morning light. The men had done well in their allegiance with the dwarves. The buildings were sturdy and the walls, tall and thick. But that did not ease her worries in the slightest. It would take a large army to enter Dale, but there would be little time for the people to make it to the safety of the mountain if they had no warning.

Amarien let her eyes trace the path from the city to the Front Gate of the mountain. The gate was a thing of beauty. Master craftsmen of the greatest skill among the dwarves had fashioned the gate. Stone and iron made up most of the massive structure and was impressively inland with gold. It could withstand any army and their machines of war for a very long time. Yet her fear did not ease. It only increased as the minutes passed.

It was not an irrational fear. Nor was it completely unfamiliar to her. Many years ago it had happened while they were in the Grey Mountains. Times were different then. She was deep in the king's council and he listened to her warnings. They were not totally unprepared when the dragons came. Everything was different now. There was only one person who had bothered to listen to her and even he held his doubts.

Then marvelous sound of a little girl's laughter pulled her from her musings. Looking down she spotted Dis running out of the gate, turning left into the pines that crawled ever so slowly up the mountain. Frerin followed after her in their play. It was but a heartbeat latter that she watched Thorin come into view, his arms crossed over his chest and a slight smile on his lips, though worry was etched into his brow. He called out taunts to his brother and sister, walking slowly into the woods. Tears gathered in her eyes, there was a stutter in her heart, and her breath was taken away. Fear lent speed to her steps down to join him. Without a doubt she knew it was coming.

Once Amarien reached Thorin's side she stilled his greeting with a wave of her hand. "It will happen soon! Get them out of the woods!" she said, breathless. The color drained from his face so much that the red in his cheeks from the morning chill vanished.

There was no hesitation when he called out the Frerin and Dis. It was at that moment that the still wind began to pick up. It was not a gust of wind, because that would suggest it abated some. Nor was it a coming storm, as the sky was a clear blue in the morning light. This wind was sudden and increasing in strength. Thorin sprinted then, calling out for Dis, Frerin was in his sight, taking cue from his older brother he started calling out to her as well.

Amarien was in the thick of the woods with them. The pines were cracking and snapping all around her when she heard a cry in the near distance. Thorin and Frerin heard it as well. Fighting the strength of the wind they found Dis, tangled in a sapling that could not withstand the wind. Welts were appearing on her face as the tiny branches whipped at her in the wind, causing her to cry harder, as she was unable to shield herself.

Thorin reached her side first, Amarien close behind. It took but moments for Thorin to pull her away from the small tree. It was then that Frerin called out to them, pointing to the top of the mountain, utter terror blanketing his face. Amarien looked through the thick bows of the tree that could not hide the monstrous shape that perched there. A great golden red dragon landed there in a spout of flame. Its massive wings held high in the sky as it surveyed the surrounding area trying to decide where to strike first. Thorin was already running toward the mountain with Dis in his arms calling out for Frerin.

Amarien spotted him rooted in fear. She grabbed his arm and pulled him along after Thorin. It was then she heard the dragon take flight, having decided where to strike first. The sound of its powerful wings was more terrifying than the blast of orc horns. The movement of the air around her signaled that he was coming their way, to the woods. She picked up speed no longer having to pull Frerin as his legs were moving faster than hers now. Thorin looked back and shouted a warning as the great beast cam down the slope of the mountain spitting fire into the woods. There was little smoke as the pines behind them were engulfed in flames so hot that it felt as if the ground beneath would start to boil.

They had made it out of the woods alive as ash started to fall around them. As the alarms all around them were raised, Amarien looked to see where the beast was. It was nearing the Front Gate and the warriors gathering there. A hot steam scolded her face as the River Running heated; the fog of steam rolling down the mountain and into Dale, cutting off all sight for them, except the area just in front of their faces.

"Take them away from here Thorin!" Amarien shouted as she shoved Frerin in his general direction, "The Mountain will not hold this beast at bay."

Amarien did not wait for a response but hastened to the gate and out of the fog rolling through. The dragon had taken flight again, but those dear, unprepared warriors in front of the gate had no chance. Tears filled her eyes and she wiped at them with anger. She needed to get inside, to get to Thrain and Thror.

Stepping carefully through the carnage that lay at the entrance, Amarien was able to make it into the mountain. More guards were coming to the gate and hurried their effort to get it sealed. The chaos that surrounded her within halls of the mountain made it difficult to get through. But she knew she needed to get to the King. Thrain was trying to direct the warriors for defense of the mountain but Amarien knew it would be of little use. They needed to retreat and she called out to him. "Thrain fall back, leave this tomb!" He looked up when she called him, and heard her, but a steely determination filled his face and he made to follow after her. No doubt he was ready to place this catastrophe upon her head and be done with her once and for all. She cared not; her only goal was to get them to safety.

Amarien did not pause, she continued to the throne room where she knew Thror would be. The room was empty but for Thror sitting upon his throne. She ran up to him and shook his shoulders. "Do you believe me now!" she cried. He only nodded his head sadly. She jerked his shoulders getting him to stand up. "Get the stone," she said pointing to the Arkenstone that rested there in the throne. He did her bidding, but once he had it in his hand he made in the direction for the vault. "No!" Amarien cried out in despair.

Thrain arrived then, running after his father, to stop his madness. He must have realized then there was no hope for it. The monstrous worm had entered the dwarven fortress and would claim his prize in the gold that rest there. By the glare passed her way, she knew he would never forget or forgive her for this day. Amarien followed him, and a sigh left her as Thrain reached his father in time to save him from himself. In the struggle to pull him from the vault chamber in which the dragon now occupied, Thror dropped the Arkenstone, losing it to the dragon that now wreathed in pleasure of his reward. Amarien watched the sparkling jewel disappear among all the treasures that lay there.

The King under the Mountain was being removed by way a secret passage by his son. Amarien close behind them as she knew the passage well. It was an escape route carved out long ago, and nearly forgotten over time. Few knew it was there and fewer still knew how to get to it. Thrain pulled the key from the chain that hung around his father's neck and opened the door. It opened with a loud screech and unbelievable speed to allow Thrain and Thror to escape. Amarien was there with them. Then an even greater force was working against her, by the time she checked for followers and looked back she realized she was not quick enough to make it through. The door slammed closed, leaving her trapped in the mountain.

Knees buckling beneath her in the narrow corridor, Amarien let herself fall into her sorrow. She had failed them. They were no longer in her charge. There were more of them dead than alive now, as so few had escaped. Perhaps the line of Durin had a chance yet, but the absence of all those that went to Aule's hall that day left her weeping on the cold stone floor. Now here she was to reside in the mountain with the beast that bested her, for she knew that no army existed that could separate the dragon from its newly claimed plunder. Just as she knew the gates were ruble and there would be no escape for her.

It would be days before she moved, and then it was only to say a prayer over the bodies of those that died defending the hall and their homes. Crying tears over each one of them, she prayed for their rest to Aule, their creator, hoping he heard her. With each prayer she could feel pieces of her own will to live leaving her. When she prayed over the last of them, the captain of the King's guard, she was certain then she would fade away and cease being. Yet she remained a long time with no hope left in her. Her days were spent cursing the beast and pondering why she still remained, wondering why she could not drift away into nothingness. She would cast her mind out into the reaches of the world, searching for what remained of her charges, hoping she would find them and a reason for why she yet remained tethered to the world. It was to no avail. They wandered now, lost, and looking for a new home.

**A/N: Well here is chapter three. I would love to hear from everyone reading this to let me know thier thoughts so far. Please feel free to comment and let me know what you like and what I can improve. Thank You!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Third Age 2799 The East Gate of Moria

It had been almost twenty years since Erebor fell to the dragon Smaug. That time had not been kind to Durin's folk. They skimped by on the small amount of coin they gathered selling pieces of armor, weapons, and trinkets in various towns. Their hardships as wanderers added to their desperation in searching for a new home. It also added to their fierceness in battle. They longed for a place to call home. In their efforts to find one many had died. The Misty Mountains had become an option and would have been passed over because of the rumors of the evil that still lurked in its depths. They would have traveled on had Thror, their king not been slain there ten years ago by a pale orc.

For the ten years that followed the beheading of their king, the dwarves were led by his son and heir, Thrain. He championed them with determination into the many skirmishes that took place through the caverns of the Misty Mountains in an effort to smoke out the pale orc. Azog they called him. He was the foul beast that organized the battles. Ten years of winning and losing in an effort to bring justice to the one that would kill their king with such cruelty. It had finally culminated in the battle they now fought; the battle that would soon be known as the Battle of Azanulbizar.

Thorin realized, long ago, that the thoughts that ran through his mind during battle were few. All thoughts were based in survival of self and the few kinsmen that fought alongside him. Perhaps there was even an ounce of strategy in the mix. There was also something to be said in using vengeance as fuel through a battle, though it was unwise to do so. The death of his grandfather gave him plenty and when faced with little left to lose it was welcome company. It dulled the pain and weariness. It had taken so long to gather an army large enough to face the forces of Azog directly that Thorin thought his vengeance had faded. Upon seeing a smug Azog reveal himself it was renewed and led him to take up an oaken branch to replace his shattered shield and lead his army with vigor.

Still, they had been too few in number to fight the orcs back. It was not until Nain and his son, Dain, arrived with reinforcements from the Iron Hills that any progress was made. Thorin was there when his cousins arrived, though his father and brother were fighting in the woods, he had no idea if they were witness to Nain falling at the hands of Azog. It was not Thorin then that exacted his vengeance but Dain. Dain beheaded the pale orc with a mighty blow, avenging his father and turning the tide of battle.

Victory had arrived but with heavy losses. The otherwise pristine white of the winter snowfall was muddied and red with the blood of the many that had fallen. As the sounds of battle turned to those of grief, Thorin felt his own strength begin to leave him. So many dwarves had fallen in battle that they could never entomb them all as was their custom. They would have to be burned. His heart was heavy and his mind went numb. Soon all that he could feel were his wounds that appeared to be numerous. Thorin made his way through the battlefield and back to camp. He was not sure if it was his wounds or exhaustion that made him stumble about and collapse, but he readily embraced the blessed darkness that waited there.

How long the darkness lasted he could not be sure. Now he was in a place of dreams. A place he had dreaded being since the night before the dragon attacked his home. Always they were unpleasant, vile places to be. They kept the pains in his life close to the surface in his waking hours and he despised them. This dream was different. There was nothing foul about it. The sun shined brightly in the clearing and filtered through the needles of the pine trees surrounding him. The scent of wildflowers and grass was in the gentle breeze and the faint buzz of a bee could be heard as it went about its work. He waited for it all to catch fire, turning to a place filled with death. When it did not he explored his dreamscape with caution.

A figure approached causing a memory from his youth to flash in his mind; the memory of a woman that saved his life and that of his siblings that fateful day when the dragon came. This figure glided into the clearing. The silver color of the cloak sparking in the sunlight, the hood casting a shadow over a face that Thorin hoped would be one he had longed to see again. The face of one he mourned as dead. Feeling a frown cross his brow, he wondered if this might not be a dream at all. Maybe he had succumb to his wounds and passed into the next life. It was then the hood was pushed back by delicate hands and revealed a face he had never forgotten; one that he could see clearly through the distance of clearing and the fog of dreams.

Time had left her untouched but for a couple of more strands of silver in her hair. Her eyes were just as fascinating as he remembered, sparkling with jewel tones. Her nose was more prominent than he remembered her mouth perhaps a bit larger than it should have been. It was a long time ago when last he saw her face and then he was so young and not as observant.

"I am dead then?" Thorin asked when she was but an arm's length from him. Tension filled his body at the thought and warred with long forgotten feelings that echoed through his heart upon sight of her beautiful face. He was weary with the toil of his life and providing what he could for his people. He could not deny that the afterlife looked hopeful if that was indeed where he was. At the same time regret and dread filled him because he had failed his people.

"Nay. You are feverish though," her voice sounded as musical and soft as he remembered a gentle caress on the breeze. "Do not fret, this is but a dream."

Some of the tension left his body only to be replaced with a familiar sorrow. "This is a pleasant dream but it serves only to renew an old pain in my heart when I wake," he said, anger filled his voice to disguise the old hurt of her loss and that of his home. It was through gritted teeth he said, "You passed long ago." Thorin turned his back to her. He could not bear the sight of her. He hated himself for letting her enter the mountain, only to never come out again like so many others. There was a bit of anger for her as well, for doing something so foolish. To this day he was still unsure as to how his father and grandfather escaped alive.

"No. I yet remain," she assured him. When he turned around and gave her his attention again she continued, "I am just far away. I have been unable to find you until today. So many perished…" Amarien trailed off. It was plain to see she was holding something back, debating it perhaps. Thorin remained silent waiting to see if she would finish. She thought better of it and instead said, "I know where you are now. Will this be your home?"

"No. Dain warns that a Balrog still resided in the depths of Moria." Thorin answered stepping closer to her. "What were you going to say Amarien?" It was a command. She tried to move away from him, but he grabbed her wrist before she could. He would have her answer.

There was a flash of surprise in her eyes, "You have lost all the innocence of your youth and for that I am sorry." Amarien jerked her arm from him, "Do not let bitterness take up residence in you, my lord. You will do better without it." She tried to walk away from him but he would not let her. With speed he knew he would not posses upon waking he moved to block her path.

"My bitterness is none of your concern, nor do I expect you to understand it as you have not been with me," Thorin said as he caught himself grinding his teeth and tried with dismal results to relax his jaw. Taking a deep breath he tried again, "Please tell me."

Amarien gave a rueful laugh, "And add further fuel to your fire then?" she wrapped the folds of her cloak tighter around her and took determined strides away from him, "you will find out upon waking."

"Amarien!" Thorin shouted at her as he trailed behind barely managing to grab her again. This dream was starting to fade and he did not want it to end. "I am sorry." She paused and looked back at him. "If I had a choice I would hear news from you over others I know, no matter how bad," he said with honesty, not realizing how true it was until the words passed his lips. Perhaps things would have been better throughout the years if she was by his side. She made him want to be better than he was.

Her stop was so abrupt Thorin almost ran into her. She grabbed his hand and pulled him down into the grass along with her. There she sat for a few silent moments looking around the clearing. Her voice was quiet when she finally spoke, "Your father was gravely wounded. He lost an eye and may lose his leg. He yet lives," she finished looking at him with a reassuring, but watery smile. She looked away and squeezed his hand harder, "Your brother was not so fortunate."

Thorin's body slumped; that all too familiar feeling of his heart being squeezed filled him. Frerin was gone. Somehow even in his dream state, he knew it to be true. She had no reason to lie to him and he was familiar enough with his dreams to know even if Amarien was not a part of it, he would have seen the death of his brother in a nightmare and it would be true.

There was a mournful cry in the clearing but it was sometime later that Thorin recognized it as his own. Never had he allowed himself to breakdown in such a fashion. He had to be strong, a constant rock, so those around him would not despair. He had to be a leader. It was not just the death of his brother in that sound, but the death of his grandfather and other kinsman. The loss of his home and the hardships of his proud people; everything was in that sound. In the back of his mind he was thankful it was all but a dream.

Amarien had pulled his head down into her lap and was absently running her fingers threw his hair in an effort to comfort him. She was humming a soft tune to him, trying to pull him from his sorrow. It was some time later that she stopped and long after his despair was spent that she spoke, "Where will you go?"

"I am not sure, perhaps further west," Thorin said, loath to move from his position and have reality come back with a vengeance.

"You will wake soon," Amarien said, encouraging him to stand up. When he did not move she took care in pulling herself out from underneath him and stood above him with a soft smile. "I will do my best to find you."

"I thought you already had," Thorin asked, confusion knitting his brow. Then her lips moved but he could not hear. A mist rolled through the clearing getting thicker and obscuring her from his view. He tried to call out to her, but could not hear his own voice. All he heard was the voice of Balin calling to him. Soon there was nothing but darkness, the dream over and reality encroaching.

Thorin acknowledged the dream was over when pain snuck up on him causing a moan to escape his lips. "Aye, he is waking!" a voice boomed. It sounded like Dain. "Quick, Balin, get something strong for him to drink." Then a little quieter he said, "He is going to need it."

Opening his eyes, Thorin first saw his father not far from him. A patch over his eyes and he left leg heavily bandaged. He looked as if he was sleeping though lines of pain were etched around his mouth. He closed his eyes again and tried to assess his own injuries. His shield arm was plainly broken that much he could tell. Before he could get further Dain began recounting his injuries,

"Aye, your arm is broken, how you managed to wield even that branch as a shield is beyond me. You have a few gashes, the worst of which on your right thigh, though the infection has cleared." Dain said. Thorin opened his eyes again and looked into the still young if battle worn face above him.

"Your beard has finally grown in," Thorin croaked, his throat dry.

"Aye," Dain said with a quick stroke of said beard. "It is good to see you cousin, though I hoped it would be under better circumstances."

"Frerin?" Thorin questioned, though he knew the answer when there was a heavy silence.

At length Dain replied, "Awaiting you and Thrain to set his pyre ablaze."

It was later that evening that Thrain woke. With the help from Dain they managed to get him outside and to Frerin's pyre. Thorin was numb to his many pains by that point whether it was from the various brews he guzzled or the torment of his own emotions he was not sure. He could not bring himself to say any words on his brothers' behalf. The grief was still too near. He simply grabbed the torch from Balin's hand and approached the pyre. Snow had begun to fall in large flakes, making it difficult to see. "Farewell brother," Thorin said locking his jaw as regret filled him. "I am sorry I was not there." In the next moment the pyre was set ablaze, lighting up the sky and melting the snow before the flakes could hit the ground.

_A/N: Please let me know your likes and dislikes, as well as any questions, concerns, or comments as all those things help better the story. There is one more chapter before Amarien and Thorin are finally reunited and their romance can blossom. I hope to have that one up tomorrow._

_Thank you for all the reviews, follows and favorites! As to the one review that I could not message by reika88 all I can say is that we will get there as to what Amarien is, but I can say she is __**not**__ the daughter of Aule but a good guess. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Third Age 2850 Dungeons of Dol Guldur

Ever she searched and ever she failed. Amarien refused to give up on her promise to Thorin. She would find him. She had searched in the mountains to the far west to no avail. The Blue Mountains had few dwarves if any. It was the first place she checked. Then she resumed her search over the rest of Middle Earth. She was beginning to think they had all disappeared. Amarien was running out of places to look when she felt a tug on her mind to look among the southern eves of Mirkwood.

That instinct grew the closer she drew to the fortress of Dol Guldur. The path became more treacherous as well. Great spiders occupied the surrounding forest and there were rumors of a great evil dwelling in the stronghold. It took many days for Amarien to figure out what had drawn her to that place. When she did find what drew her she could hardly bare it and knew she would soon feel the death of another of Durin's line.

From the relative safety of her hiding place within the Lonely Mountain, ever guarded by the powerful dragon Smaug, Amarien focused on her destination. Over the years she had developed a way to solidify herself in human form elsewhere. First, she would cast her mind out, in this case to the dungeons of Dol Guldur where she had found Thrain. She would then gather all of her energy around her, condense it, and form her body from it. This did have its down side; the body she left behind in the Lonely Mountain would slowly start to deteriorate as if she were dead. However, as long as she returned often, it would repair itself.

Upon reaching his side she could feel the icy fingers of the evil that lived within the fortress. It had been called the Necromancer. To her it felt more familiar, as if she knew exactly who had done this to Thrain. Yet she could not figure it out.

"After all that he has taken from me, he could not take the memory of you," Thrain hissed from where he lay broken in the corner of a dank cell. Amarien kneeled next to him and brushed the bloodied hair from his forehead. He gazed at her with his good eye, which was now swollen and bruised.

"You have to believe I did everything I could for her Thrain," Amarien cried. She let her head fall down to his and whispered, "For both of them."

"Father said you gave no warning. My mother should not have been left as carrion for the birds," Thrain said as a violent cough racked his body.

"I did Thrain! I swear I did. He ignored me. I told him her party would be attacked. That it was not worth the gold offered for that armor," Amarien felt that old sorrow bubble up. She told Thror that the peoples of Rhun, the lands east of the Erebor, could not be trusted. That no matter the amount of gold they offered in return for dwarven armor it was likely a trap. "He ever craved gold!" Amarien hissed. Thrain flinched with the dishonor she placed upon his father, but she continued, "He was not in his right mind Thrain and you know what I say is true."

"And Nola," Thrian's voice was losing its strength quickly.

"I tried to save your darling wife Thrain, I did. I was too late," Amarien said pulling him closer to her. She cradled his head and placed a kiss upon it. There was little she could do to save Nola after she gave birth to Dis. The cause of her death was natural, in that childbirth was risky, especially among the dwarves. She had no warning of Nola's death. She never had the foresight to see when any dwarf would die from something akin to sickness, childbirth, or old age. "I will never ask your forgiveness for her passing as I cannot even forgive myself for it."

"I will see her again soon," Thrain whispered absently. "The pain fades." He coughed again, blood spattering out of his mouth with the force of it.

"Yes you will. Your beloved wife, your mother, your father, even your son will be there to greet you," Amarien assured him. "They will give you a hero's welcome." Amarien knew her time with Thrain was growing short. "Thrain where are your people? Where do they reside?"

"With my son," he said, a little more strength was in his voice, but it did not last. "My living son, I cannot remember my heir's name."

"Where are they?" Amarien said. Wildness was starting to brew in his stormy eyes. His mind was being tormented by the evil there. "Listen to my voice Thrain. Where are they?" she cooed. She began humming until some of the wildness left his eyes and his breath became much shallower. "Thrain?"

"Tell him of my passing. He is in the southern tips of the Blue Mountains." Thrain said. It was his last moment of lucidness then. He began rambling "last of seven" over and over. Amarien held him. Trying to lend what comfort she could in his last minutes, though it was draining her considerably. The evil here was taking her strength to feed itself. She recognized it. It was familiar to her.

It was not until the figure she had not seen in some time appeared in the dungeon. Though he appeared an old man in grey robes with a pointy hat she recognized his essence. He was one of the Mair, a servant to the god Manwe. Olorin was his name, but here the elves called him Mithrandir and the dwarves called him Tharkun. In the common speech he was called Gandalf. Indeed he was a being of many names. Upon seeing the old man she knew of the evil that resided here. An evil Miar. The one who betrayed Aule.

"Olorin! Over here," Amarien called out to him, only then did he notice the inhabitants of the dungeon. With haste he made his way over and kneeled beside Thrain, placing his had upon the dwarf's forehead, speaking magical words to rouse him.

"Last of seven," Thrain began mumbling again. Once his eyes focused on Gandalf however he handed him a rolled up piece of parchment and pulled the key that hung around his neck off with the last of his strength. "My son. Give to my son." He slipped away again, though not yet taking his last breath.

Only then did Gandalf look at her, "You are far from where you should be," Gandalf frowned and seemed to look through her. "You are one of the few remaining in loyal service to Aule. Why are you here?" Amarien tried to answer him. To tell him that she had long watched over Aule's creations. Anything, but he could not hear her. He just continued to frown. "Your strength leaves you. Leave this place before he takes all of your essence. You are not strong enough." Gandalf commanded. Amarien looked down to the burden that she held and back up to him, trying to show with her eyes that she could not leave Thrain alone in death. "I shall remain with him, go now!"

Amarien left and not a moment too soon. She felt the ever growing presence of Sauron. She had once looked up to him, long ago. Her creator, Aule, once tutored him in the skills of creating and forging. But Sauron craved power and dominion over others. He betrayed Aule by seeking the skills that Morgoth, the dark lord, possessed. Amarien had given up long ago in hoping that Sauron would return from the evil being he had become.

That was in the first age. So long ago that it almost seemed a myth to Amarien. She could recall when she still resided in Aule's halls and Sauron was not the evil minion of Morgoth. He was always nice to her and the other servants of Aule, though they were beneath him he never treated them as subordinates. Amarien never understood why he left Aule in favor of Morgoth. There was so much more Aule might have been able to teach him, even in forging, though Sauron often thought he had learned all he could. It was more reasonable that he left because he learned all that he needed.

Suddenly in all clicked in place in her mind. Thrain was speaking of the last of seven and she felt the presence of Sauron in Dol Guldur. Sauron had crafted seven rings for the seven dwarf lords long ago. As Thrain did not give a ring to Gandalf in which to give Thorin, she deduced that Sauron had taken it from him. She was not sure why. "Stop Amarien…" she said to herself as she returned to Erebor. She was not an all knowing Miar; her understanding of the world was pretty limited and revolved around Durin's folk.

Exhaustion had taken hold of her upon returning to her body. She curled up on her pallet and replayed the events of the day. At least she had learned where Thorin was. Though she had checked the Blue Mountains long ago, it may have been they had just not arrived there yet. She hoped that was the case. As soon as she gathered her strength she would seek them again. Though she dreaded seeing Thorin. Amarien realized that every time she had seen him it was deliver ill tidings. Tears pricked her eyes again. She feared that this time he would not welcome her. This time he may regard her as that hated ill omen.

Amarien rubbed her tired eyes and wiped the tears from her face. It did not matter. In the end she would hold to her promise and find him. She needed to gather her strength for the task ahead. She would need it all as she did not want to leave her people alone anymore than necessary. She did not want to fail in her task. She did not want fail him, like she did the rest of his family. The mountain rumbled then; dust and pebbles falling all around her. The dragon was letting her know he was still there. She growled in frustration as she shielded her head and scooted closer to the corner. She was not sure if the mountain had stilled before or after she finally fell asleep.

_A/N: Alright here is the last part of the sad stuff. Now the romance can begin! Please tell me what you think so far! Every little bit helps. Hopefully the next chapter will be up Sunday. Oh and I may have had Thorin saying they would go east in the last chapter… Yeah I meant west and will be fixing that shortly. Thank you all!_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Third Age 2850 The Blue Mountains

Thorin watched the merrymaking and feasting in his modest hall and tried not to let melancholy take hold. It was a happy day. Dis and Nar had finally wed. A soft smile played about his lips as he watched his sister laugh at something her new husband had said. She led Nar on a merry chase, since they met after the Battle of Azanulbizar. When Nar finally proved himself worthy to Dis thier only other obstacle had been her father. Thrain was not particular fond of Nar as he was the one who had delivered the news of Thror's death at the hands of Azog. At the time Thorin was indifferent, now though he thought Nar was worthy of his sister. The dwarf had proved himself long ago and Thorin knew that he would treasure Dis. When news came that Thrain had disappeared and was likely dead, Thorin gave his blessing to their union. The only problem was he was soon to be alone.

"Your thoughts are starting to show," Nar said as he approached Thorin, offering him a mug of ale. Balin and Dwalin were not far behind him.

Thorin grabbed the mug and let a calm expression pass over his face, "And your guess as to what they might be?" he arched a brow at his newly acquired brother.

"The way in which you will murder me if I upset her?" Nar replied, deadpan.

A small laugh escaped him, "I am certain Dis will make her displeasure known."

"Aye," Balin said joining the conversation, "Few here have not witnessed her wrath." Balin raised his eyebrows and rocked back on his heels, passing a glance to Dwalin.

Dwalin was rubbing the middle of his chest, "For such a small thing she has a mighty punch." They all shared a laugh at Dwalin's expense.

"There was no one to blame but yourself," Nar said a smile still on his face. "Even I am not as foolish as to try and startle her."

"It was not on purpose," Dwalin defended him.

"I say we place a bet on it," Balin said finishing his mug of ale and placing it on the table. "Nar will be sporting a new injury come morning."

"That is too easy brother," Dwalin said, "We should pick her weapon!"

"I will take that bet," Nar said setting his own mug on the table. "I will have no injury come morning."

Balin nodded, "I say you will be bashed with the new shield Dwalin made her."

"Nay, she will punch him squarely in the eye," Dwalin said.

"What say you Thorin?" Balin asked him.

"Those are too simple. My sister likes to add insult to injury." Thorin said thoughtfully, "She will hit him upside the head with the very cuff he made her."

Nar nodded, "Sounds like her." There was a round of laughter, but seriousness invaded right behind it. "Dain only requested me, you are my king Thorin. If you command it, I will stay."

Thorin shook his head. "No. Dain requested you for a reason. You are the best for the training fields," Thorin said at length. "We have few younglings in need of training here."

"I could go in his stead,' Dwalin offered.

"Ha! You have not the patience, brother," Balin laughed.

"It is settled." Thorin said. "It will do my sister good to see our kin there."

"When does the happy couple leave for the Iron Hills?" Balin asked then. Thorin already knew the answer.

"In the morning," Nar replied bracing for the brothers concern over it.

"But Dis will not have grown out her beard!" Dwalin complained. Female dwarves were often mistaken for men by the other inhabitants of middle earth because they disguised themselves in an effort to protect them from outsiders. There were so few of them that it was rare for them to be outside the protection of the halls. When it was necessary they would grow out their beards, some women kept them, while others, like Dis, did not.

Nar passed a look to Thorin, and then looked back to the brothers. "Gentlemen, I pick my battles with her carefully. Besides she will be in a cart and the road is relatively safe." Nar offered. All of them looked to Dis as she was trying to disengage from the group she was with, her gaze looking for Nar. "I should go to her."

"Careful lad, she has that determined look about her," Balin called after Nar as he made his way through the crowd to his wife. He threw his arm up in a dismissive wave to signal that he had heard him.

Thorin watched in silence as Nar reached his sister and pulled her into his embrace. Thorin did not want to know what the other dwarf said to make a blush stain his sister's cheeks. He was not surprised when Dis turned in Nar's embrace and raised her left arm and brought it to connect with the side of his head with little force, but her cuff was dwarven made so there was certain to be a small amount of pain where it connected with Nar's skull. There was laughter that filled the hall along with happy couple's own.

"That was a short bet," Dwalin said under his breath. Dis pulled away from her husband and started walking toward her brother, leaving Nar to rub the side of his skull. Dwalin reached for his coin purse to pay up.

"No," Balin stilled his movement, "We will all have it if she thinks we placed bets!"

Thorin laughed, "Keep your coin. That was not fair. I know her too well it seems," Thorin whispered as he stood to greet his approaching sister. He pulled her into his embrace to allow time for Dwalin and Balin to make a hasty retreat.

"I know you are as guilty as them," Dis said with a laugh. "I shall let it slide though."

"How kind, sister," Thorin said offering his arm to his sister so they could walk to a quieter place. The glint in her eye told him she wished a word and he would do better to get it over with.

"It is difficult to find a bride when you do not speak to any of the ladies," Dis said without preamble or warning as was her way. Always blunt and to the point.

Thorin knew it was coming. "I could approach any one of them and ask for their hand, and they would give it. Where is the fun in that?" Thorin said patting his sister's hand where it rested on his arm.

"That is not the point," Dis said through her teeth. Yes, he was wearing on her patience. "You do not even try."

Thorin pulled her to a stop and they surveyed the room, "It is not as if there are many to choose from, Dis"

His sisters laugh filled the air around him, "I know," She surveyed the crowd again with a critical eye. "What about Rona? She is fair," she paused for a moment trying to think of what else the said dwarf could offer. "She is fair," Dis finished lamely. They shared another laugh before she said, "Perhaps in the Iron Hills there are more…"

Thorin did not let her finish, "I will find her in my own time. Do not worry about me," Thorin said "Besides I am certain any nephews I will have will make remarkable heirs."

"Nay, you will make your own heirs," Dis said with a small amount of disgust. "At his point I would willing accept an illegitimate nephew of my own."

"Such does not exist," Thorin assured her.

"That you know of," Dis said turning a stormy gaze much like his father's on him. Thorin was certain, and she could see it on his face. "You have done well for us here and I would see you get the happiness you deserve."

"Perhaps I will one day," Thorin said, though there was little hope in his voice. He placed a gentle kiss on his sister's forehead. "No one is paying any mind. You should make your escape." Dis pulled from him, looking for the nearest exit. "I will see you in the morning."

Finding the route she would take, she backed up to it and blew him a kiss, "Sleep well, brother." Then she was gone, the merrymakers none the wiser. Thorin decided he would retire as well, not particularly wanting to hear any of the ribbing Nar would get before he retired to Dis's chambers. She was his little sister and he was happy for her, at the same time he did not want to see her leave his side. It was selfish, he knew that. It was just difficult to hand her over to another. He would miss her, but consoled himself with the fact she would likely only be in the Iron Hills for a year or two; not that long in the grander scheme of things. Perhaps he could entertain himself with carving her out her own mansion within the halls of the Blue Mountain. It was his hope that upon her return her family would need more space than the modest chambers she already had here.

Thorin stopped in his stride. He thought he saw a flash of silver fabric ahead, near his chamber, but disregarded it as his mind playing tricks on him. It was likely his conversation with Dis still lingering in his mind. It brought to the surface a want that he had long ago given up on. The want of getting to know Amarien, perhaps put forth the effort with her to see if their relationship could be more. For the longest time he hoped that she would find them. When she did not, he hoped to at least dream of her again. That too never happened. Yet somehow, even after all of these years he still thought of her. He needed to push her from his mind all together. Her memory was a hindrance to him. He needed to move on, find someone as his sister had suggested, get rid of the closely guarded secret he kept in his heart of his feelings for the mysterious being that was Amarien.

Entering his chamber, he rolled his shoulders in an effort to relieve some of his tension. When that did not work he removed his formal overcoat and laid over the back of a chair but not before taking the last remaining of his mother's beads from the pocket. There was nothing but the clothes on his back and his mother's beads in his pockets the day Smaug came. Through the years he treasured them all. Various little things, fashioned in metals and jewels. No one knew he had them, nor did they know the many he had given up to feed his people. This morning he had given all that remained of them to his sister, for her wedding day. All of them but one. It was not worth much, considering the others his mother had. This one was made of silver, perfectly crafted, and if looked at closely one could see the knot work intricately carved into it. Thrain had given this bead to Nola the day Thorin was born. If he thought hard enough he could remember the many times he played with it in his mother's hair as a child.

With a sigh he placed the bead in a little wooden box on the mantle above his fireplace. He could feel the melancholy taking hold again, and tried to force it away. The voice in his mind was telling him that he had done well over the years. They had survived and were slowly building a life for themselves in the Blue Mountains. Thorin reached for his pipe and lit it, hoping the smoke would calm him. When it did not he started to blow smoke rings in an effort to entertain himself when there was a knock at the door.

Thorin frowned, he barley heard it but took a step toward the door, only to pause and listen. Nothing could be heard on the other side, but he took another step. There it was again, a soft knock. This time he finished his steps to the barrier and pulled it open. To his utter surprise the very figure of the person he was trying forget stood there. Amarien looked up sharply when he opened the door. The timeless beauty of her face sending a shock through him that left him speechless. He was not sure for how long he stood there like a fool, pipe in one hand and door in the other, but the slight tilting of her head snapped him out of it. "How can this be?" He asked, more to himself than her.

"I have found you, my lord." Amarien said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Now I shall endeavor not to lose you again."

_A/N: Okay here is the next installment. Slowly now things will start developing between Amarien and Thorin, and many questions will start being answered. This chapter is a transition to all of that. Please comment and/ or review. I always want to know what I can improve upon. Thank you all for your support!_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Amarien found it a little amusing that she had rendered Thorin speechless. Before her stood a formidable dwarf in his prime, an imposing figure even in his shock at seeing her. It was to be expected as he had not seen her in the flesh so to speak in eighty years. She had not changed much. He on the other hand, had changed greatly. His body had filled out, but not to excess as some dwarves tended to do. His dark blue tunic rested on his broad shoulders and was belted at his narrower waist. The color suited him, it seemed to make his eyes all that more striking. His raven hair was longer, well passed his shoulders now and pieces of it were braided at each temple to show his status. His beard was neatly trimmed, unadorned, and not grown out as much as she had been expecting.

Thorin recovered from his initial shock. "I hope you do not bare ill news. I can assure you that all that remains of my family is quite well. I saw them but minutes ago." Thorin said opening the door further and standing aside so she could enter his chamber.

Amarien bowed her head in respect as she entered but a frown crossed her brow. She must have rested longer than intended for him to have heard of his father's end. She took a deep breath and asked to be sure, "Your father's demise?"

Thorin let out a deep breath and shut the door. The set of his shoulders was stiff and he did not look at her when he answered, "Aye, Dwalin and Balin bore me those tidings."

Amarien nodded and offered him a sad smile, "Then I have no ill news, my lord."

"That is a relief then," Thorin said placing his pipe on the mantle. He must have only smoked a little of it because she could smell only a little of the sweet scent on the air.

There was an awkward silence that followed, one that Amarien could not understand. She surveyed his chambers. There were certainly modest as compared to those in Erebor. The stone chamber she stood in was the living area. There was a door on the east wall, probably leading to his sleeping chamber. The rest of the room was rather sparse; a fur rug in front of the fireplace, a table and chair in the corner by the door, a pair of more comfortable chairs near the fire, and a rather large and ornate desk on the west wall, a few parchments littering the top, a golden harp sat in the corner by his bed chamber. There was little to find in the room that signaled he was even a king. The only inkling of this was likely found in the ornate carvings around the doors. She did not pursue those any further because she felt his gaze on her, boring into her. Amarien turned and looked at him.

"How the mighty have fallen, yes?" Thorin asked when she was done with her perusal.

She shook her head, "I saw the hall filled with merrymaking, it was as grand as any," she started assuring him. "You have done well for them. I would have been disappointed if your chambers were as opulent as those in Erebor." It was the truth too. Obviously Thorin had sacrificed much for his people, all for the sake to give them a slice of happiness. "What was the occasion?" She had seen the crowd gathered in the main hall before she materialized in the corridors, nearly all of them intoxicated to some extent.

"I am sorry, what?" Thorin said his arms crossing his chest.

"Are you alright?" Amarien asked, stepping closer to him. He was acting rather odd. He shook his head as if to scatter his thoughts before he nodded. "I asked after the occasion."

He looked down at her and held her gaze for a moment, "My sister wed today," his voice a little deeper as he spoke though not loud. She must have altogether forgotten how deep a baritone he had as it seemed to vibrate in her chest. He reached for her hand and she let him take it. "I cannot believe you are here."

"I am," she said, it was the truth, kind of. "I am happy your sister found a worthy match?" Amarien asked, looking down at the hand that held hers. His thumb was rubbing a circle in her palm that was rather distracting and caused a shiver to race up her arm.

"You are cold." Thorin said then grabbing her other hand in his larger ones. "Let me start a fire."

"No my skin just feels cold, I assure you I am well," Amarien said quickly reaching for him to still his movements. "Are you sure you are well, my lord? You are acting strange."

"Of course," Thorin said, perhaps a little defensively. "It was a long day." He stepped away offering her a seat by the fire and waited for her to take it before he took the one next to her. "To answer your question, Nar is very worthy of my sister, though father never thought so." He slowly began to relax in his chair. "It was not hard to give my blessing though, after father's passing."

"That is happy news then, considering," Amarien said. "I would imagine your sister has turned out as fair as your mother?"

"Aye, though with father's eyes," Thorin said. He continued talking about his sister. It was clear in his voice that he was going to miss her while she was away with her new husband in the Iron Hills. Still she enjoyed listening to the timbre of his voice. It had been so long since she heard anyone speak, especially of everyday things. Then he asked, "How did you escape?" It was only then that she realized he did not know that she hadn't. Amarien remembered trying to tell him in his dream, but he was waking and could not hear her.

Before she could answer him, a loud pounding on Thorin's door startled her. It was so bad that she was afraid she had dematerialized, but was pleased to find out that was not the case, or if it was Thorin had not noticed it yet. She blamed it on the time she had been absent from the company of dwarves; otherwise she would have not been startled. She stood, making sure to calm herself before he opened the door. Two other dwarves entered. One was as tall as Thorin, though more burly a dwarf with markings on his bald head that only made his beard stand out all that much more. The other was shorter than the both of them, with a long graying beard and a bushy head of hair. It was the latter that took notice of her first.

"My lady," he said with a bow.

"Forgive us, my lord," The bald one said, glancing between Thorin and Amarien. "We thought you alone."

"All is well," Thorin said, "This is an old friend. Amarien, this is Balin and Dwalin," he gestured to them, the bald one being Dwalin. "Sons of Fundin."

"It is nice to meet you sons of Fundin," Amarien said. Relief coursing through her. They could see her. Though Balin was looking intently at her.

"I am sorry lass," he said then, perhaps noticing her discomfort, "You remind me of someone. I just cannot seem to place it."

"That is quiet alright, master dwarf," Amarien replied then looked to Thorin "I should retire for the evening."

"Of course, it is getting late," Thorin said then looked to Balin and Dwalin, "I will be back momentarily, once I show Amarien to a free guest chamber." He finished offering his arm to her, the expression on his face leaving little room for argument.

Amarien placed her hand on his offered arm and he immediately covered it with his free hand. Indeed the only time that large hand was not covering hers was when he shut the door to his chamber. He led her through several corridors, Amarien paying close attention to where they were going as she was not familiar with this place, until they finally reached an available room.

"I am sorry it is so far away, perhaps once the wedding guests leave we can find you something more suitable." Thorin said as he pulled them to a stop.

"This is plenty suitable, my lord." Amarien said. She would have little use for guest chamber anyway.

"Until tomorrow?" Thorin asked. It was almost as if he believed she would disappear again. Not that she could blame him, though she could not understand the hopefulness in his tone. Amarien nodded. Then he did the most peculiar thing she had ever experienced from one of Durin's line, he placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand saying, "Sleep well Amarien." Then he disappeared back down the corridors.

Amarien entered the chamber he led her to. Though it was a large space, there was little to it. A table, a chest, and a couple of chairs by a small fireplace. The most beautiful thing to her though was the inviting bed. Clean linens and a soft mattress beckoned her. She wanted to lie upon it and sleep but was afraid to. She did not wish to fall asleep in this form as she was not sure what would happen to the body she left back in the Lonely Mountain.

Yet another forceful knock sounded at the door, only this time it did not startle her. She made her way to the door and opened it. It must have surprised the servant on the other side because she jumped and all the color left her face. "I am sorry," Amarien said, but it did nothing to calm the dwarven woman standing there.

"Hello," the woman called out with a stutter, the poor skittish thing.

"Hello," Amarien answered opening the door wider only to see more color seem to drain from the woman's face. Amarien snapped her fingers and tried clapping her hands together to get the woman's attention. It failed and the woman began to back away from the door with small hesitant steps. The dishes on the tray she carried began rattling from her shaky grasp. The woman turned suddenly, the tray falling from her hands and clattering to the floor as she ran down the corridor.

Amarien came to the realization then, that perhaps not all could see her. She would have to be very careful around everyone. It would not do to have the dwarves of Thorin's hall become spooked. She cleaned the mess left by the serving woman and set the tray in her room. Then she pulled the covers back on the bed and fussed with the pillows until it looked slept in as a precaution should Thorin come calling before she could return in the morning.

Amarien paused in her work, not sure why she was doing it at all. She soon realized she did it to comfort him. She did not want him to think she had not been there. Before she could question herself any further she took a deep breath and let her form dissipate in the air and travel back to the Lonely Mountain. Her mind was racing when she arrived. She would have to tell Thorin of her plight. She just did not know how to tell him, nor was she sure how he would react. The last thing she wanted was for him to mount a rescue attempt. It were these thoughts that raced through her mind as she fell into a restless slumber, ignoring the rumblings of the mountain as by now she was used to them.

_A/N: Sorry this update took longer than I intended it to be. I have been trying to finish up work on a class. Hopefully though I should have that done by Saturday so I can post the next chapter on Sunday. No promises though. Please let me know what you think, I love hearing from you. If you have any questions or if I need to clarify anything please feel free to let me know. Can't wait to hear from you all._


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

"I trust you Balin, to be his sense while I am away," Nar said as he mounted his pony with a fluid movement, "If that fails I trust Dwalin will knock some into him." Nar finished his statement with a smirk in Thorin's direction.  
"Away now," Thorin spoke up with good nature. "Take care of her," he said before stepping back and returning the wave his sister gave from her cart. With a nod, Nar urged his pony forward and beside the cart. Thorin watched the party until they disappeared.  
"They will be fine," Balin said then, Thorin having forgotten that he was not alone at this early hour in the morning. All he could do was pass Balin a nod before heading back to the hall in search of Amarien. She was not in her chamber this morning when Thorin stopped to see if she wished to join him in his sister's farewell. He was a little concerned as to where she could have gotten off to.

"Have you seen Amarien this morning?" Thorin asked Balin as they entered the hall. Balin only shook his head in response; as did Dwalin when Thorin asked him during breakfast. There was no time to look for her after as a delegation from Bree arrived to discuss trade. After that long and tedious meeting, in which they broke for lunch briefly, and to Thorin's dismay, none had seen Amarien, his mood was turning sour. By the time they were done for the day he was in a very foul mood.

"I shall search for her," Balin offered quietly from his place next to Thorin as they ate the final meal of the day. It was the only thing said through the whole meal. A meal in which left a bitter taste in Thorin's mouth and his jaw sore from grinding his teeth as Dwalin and Balin passed glances back and forth across the table at each other.

Thorin was not sure what irked him more. The fact that Balin knew the cause of his foul mood, or the very fact that he was in a foul mood to begin with. He stood from his seat, trying to school his features in something other than the scowl he was wearing before he replied, "I care not." He turned to leave the hall when the sound of his voice came out sounding contrary to his statement.

He heard the sound of two chairs scrapping along the floor as Balin and Dwalin left their seats. It was Dwalin that said, "In other words, why have we not found her yet?"

"Aye. I will check the east guest halls, you go west," Balin directed before Thorin could hear them no more.

Storming to his chamber did little to better his mood, nor did slamming his door hard enough for it to echo along the corridor. It was foolish, he knew. It was not as if she said she would still be here today. Yes, he checked her chamber, her bed slept in, but he was not sure where she could have gotten off to, and he was worried about her. He missed her already. Certainly she would have told him farewell if she intended to leave. Then again, it was not as if he knew her as well as he would like and was unsure if she would in fact say farewell.

Thorin stopped himself as he reached his door; his feet and mood leading him there; wanting to go in search of the accursed female. He pulled his hand back from the door, looking at it as if it was utterly foreign to him. Mahal help him, he had it bad. He was not a lovesick dwarfling. He was a king! Perhaps one in exile, but a king none the less. With a sigh, he pulled himself together again and tried to slow his mind from the circles it was racing when there was a soft knock at his door.

Thorin jerked open his door, feeling a scowl that seemed as if it had permanently etched itself onto his face today, deepen. There she was, standing in the corridor with her ever present cloak and an arched brow. It was as if every time he forced her from his mind she would appear, just to taunt him with everything he wanted, everything just outside his reach. "A bad time then?" she questioned when he did not move or a say a word.

"No," was all he could say before offering her a nod to enter his chamber. Once inside she pulled the hood of her cloak down. "Where have you been?" Yes the question came out sounding more worried than outraged, but he kept the scowl on his face lending to the outrage he hoped.

"Exploring your new home," Amarien replied. The look in her eyes was guarded, defensive almost, but with a hint of calculation. Good she knew he was displeased then.

"Seeing as how this is not Moria or Erebor what did you do with the other half of the day?" Thorin questioned. It did not take a whole day to explore every crevice and rock in this mountain and he wanted answers. His tone left no room for argument. He crossed his arms over his chest hoping it looked intimidating but really it was only to keep them from reaching out to her.

Both of her brows rose then, a moment latter she seemed to catch on to the reason for his displeasure and narrowed her eyes, "I am not a child and will do as I please, as I have done since before your very creation and that of several generations before you," she spoke with even, patient tones, as if he was a child. This set his teeth to grinding again. "Do stop before the only meal you will be able to eat is soup. I am sure your jaw will thank you." Her nerve was amazing, as well as what appeared to be genuine concern for his mouth, and he had to restrain the bark of laughter that nearly escaped him.

"This is my domain, I would know what you spend your time doing when none can find you," Thorin said then added through clenched teeth, "for your own safety, of course."

At the last part of the comment she laughed, "My safety?" she was shocked. "I am capable of looking after myself. Remember I was there the day the worm came Thorin, son of Thrain!" She pulled her hood back up over her head and made for the door.

Thorin blocked her path. "Yes, and I still have no idea how you escaped. Perhaps you could enlighten me, ease my concerns for your safety," he dared not reach for her as he so badly wanted to. He would do something foolish and likely end up chasing her farther refuge than her chamber.

A calm mask covered her face as she looked up at him. She was silent for a couple of moments. When he arched his own brow at her and looked into her eyes, in an effort mostly to ignore her lips that where so very close, he saw his mistake. She would tell him nothing. Judging by the spark that lit her eyes, he would be lucky to ever see her again.

"Perhaps, my lord, I will tell you that tale. One day, when it no longer haunts me. I may even tell it without being asked." Here she stepped around him and without a backward glance said, "Sleep well." Then she was gone with a soft click of his door closing. Blasted woman. Could she not understand that he worried for her? That he feared she would disappear again and never give him the chance to tell her that he never wanted her away from his side. That he needed her…

With a frustrated groan, Thorin ran his hands through his hair debating for a few moments whet the best course of action would be. He needed to fix this. He opened his door to see Balin standing there with a wide eyed Amarien. He cared not that Balin was there. The dwarf bowed away and left with hurried steps before Thorin could even say anything. He had Amarien's full attention and that was all he wanted. There was still an angry color to her cheeks. "Amarien I must apologize," he started to say with a shake of his head. He was not good with apologies.

"All is forgiven," Amarien said quickly, stilling any further attempts he made. There was nervousness about her now, as if she could not wait to get away from him and he felt a thump of panic in his heart.

"I do not wish to compromise our friendship or anger you," Thorin paused; he was trying to find the right words and was failing miserably. "You have only just returned and I would not have you leave."

She stopped him, "Our friendship is dear to me," she said, her voice quiet, but he did not miss the emphasize she put into the statement. "I would not leave unless you asked it of me," she finished looking away and successfully hiding any thoughts she might have betrayed on her face from him.

Thorin reached for her, but she shied away from him, "I will not ask you to," Thorin said. It sounded like an oath, or at least a promise.

Amarien passed him a quick glance showing only a slight smile before she said, "Then I will see you again tomorrow." She turned and Thorin watched her back as she traveled down the corridor. He would see her tomorrow and that was good enough for the moment.

_A/N: Alright, first off, I must apologize for how long it has been since I updated. This chapter gave me no small amount of hell. I am still not happy with it at all and would really appreciate some feedback here as I plan on revisiting this beasty. This was meant to be a transition chapter into the love story. The other chapters will come much easier as I have them all planned out. This one however… ugh… Please let me know your thoughts so I can continue this tale with a little bit more direction. Let me know what you liked, didn't like, so on and so forth and maybe I can figure out what I am missing here to make this chapter feel better. Thank you so much for your support! _


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Amarien finished dressing by wrapping her cloak tightly around her. Life had become remarkably difficult in the last several weeks. Every day now when she appeared in her room she had an ever increasing routine she had to complete before leaving it. Thorin had a few dresses made for her; simple, but beautiful to replace the one she always wore. It only took one step out of her chamber after putting one on, for her to realize that the dress could be seen by everyone, though she couldn't. Thankfully it was a tired guard that saw a dress floating down the corridor and nothing came of it. She then learned she could hide the dress under her cloak and move unseen again.

It only took once for her to realize that the dresses that were made for her did not travel with her when she would dissipate to return to the Lonely Mountain. The night spent in nothing but her cloak was more than enough cause for her not to ever forget it. So her routine had come forth over the weeks. She would arrive in the Blue Mountains, change her clothes, and then fix her room, making it appear that she was in fact residing there, and the servants were in fact cleaning it. Then she would conceal herself in her cloak before stepping out. Upon returning to her chamber in the evening, she would again mess the room up a little, the bed included and change back into her attire that she had worn for countless years before returning to Erebor.

The whole process was rather exhausting. She did it every day without fail though and often questioned herself as to why. That was the basis for her thoughts now as she traveled along the corridors to the area Thorin had picked out to build Dis a home of her own. She knew things would be easier if she just made an appearance every so often. Something kept her from doing that though. She knew it centered on the words Balin uttered to her outside Thorin's chamber that night when she asked after Thorin's foul mood. Weeks later his words were still crystal clear in her head. "Isn't it obvious lass, he thinks himself in love with you."

The concept he was trying to impart on her was foreign to her; never before had she been the recipient of such a notion. Yes, she loved the dwarves, all of them; they were after all her charges. She could not deny though that her affection for Thorin was somewhat different than her regard for the others, something she herself could not quite understand. As for his feelings for her, she was not sure what to make of them. Even in the best of times, when she was not counted as a curse on the people, the affection others had shown her was that of a love one might have for an eccentric aunt.

All these uncertainties seemed to suggest that she should again disappear, run back to the Lonely Mountain and stay there. Thorin had built a life for his people, one of peace and plenty, she was not needed here. Yet here she was again, day after day. Moving through her rituals to keep hidden from those who could not see her while at the same time keeping up appearances for those that could, which were very few. It was a trying business at times, but one she did not wish to quit. The reason for that alone was bothering her. She did not wish to worry Thorin. More disturbing to her, she did not think she could continue the solitary existence in Erebor when she longed to see her charges, her friends, which she counted Balin and Dwalin among them, and Thorin. Every time things became difficult she thought about leaving, and every time there would be a sharp pain in her chest, one that grew quickly with the thought of not seeing Thorin again. She had yet to identify why.

There was no one in this part of the mountain this early in the morning. They had started carving out Dis's home but a couple of weeks ago and already it was looking to be a thing of beauty. Thorin had an eye for what the inside of the mountain could produce. This place would be elaborate when it was finished, judging by the four carved columns already in place at the entrance reaching just over two stories up into the mountain. Amarien knew Thorin was expecting Dis and Nar to fill this home with their children, dwarflings that would likely be his heirs. Children of the line of Durin, and children that deserved the very best to offer. She smiled as she traced her finger along the intricate carvings of dwarven knot-work along the door of the main entrance and the runes carved out by Thorin himself with great care. The runes for the line Durin, the families mark.

"They are not finished yet," the increasingly familiar voice trailed down her spine as the dwarf ever present in her thoughts approached from behind her. "I thought I would find you here."

Amarien passed him a nervous smile over her shoulder, "It will be beautiful," she said in return as she pulled her hand away and folded them in front of herself to still them. "When will your sister and her husband be back?"

"It will be some time yet. Dis has been enjoying Dain's hospitality." Thorin said offering his arm to her. She took it in a movement that was becoming increasingly natural out of habit. He led her back the way she had came a little ways before guiding her to a chair that overlooked the whole project. "I am beginning to think it will be done with time to spare." Thorin took the seat next to her glancing over the plans for Dis's home determining what will be done later that day.

"They work hard for you," Amarien said, referring to those that he had commissioned to build the structure. They were very loyal and honest, not to mention some of the most skilled crafters the dwarves had to offer.

Thorin smirked at her. "I think they do it more out of their adoration for Dis than anything."

"You do not give yourself enough credit," Amarien said, brushing some of her hair out of the way from her face and behind her ear so she could see him better. He followed the movement out of the corner of his eye. "She may hold some of their adoration, but you have a hold of their loyalty."

There were a few moments of silence, a comfortable one as he wrote something down and stood back up. "I was wondering if you would do me a small favor?" he asked, his full gaze on her now. There was concern in his voice that made a frown cross her brow. She took his offered hand as they walked back toward the main parts of the hall. "The mayor of Bree is sending a new emissary to discuss our trading arrangement. Judging by his messages I am not sure that he is a very honest fellow. I was wondering if perhaps you would join the meeting today. I value your judgment on such matters."

Their steps had slowed and all but stopped. Nervousness gripped her. She was not sure if she could do such a thing, not knowing who would see her and who would not. "Who will be in this meeting?" She asked hesitantly. She ran her hands through her hair pulling it all back from her face. It was a nervous movement and one that took great effort to still.

A slight frown crossed Thorin's brow at the odd question but he answered, "Dwalin, Balin, Gloin, and myself. Then of course this new emissary. That is all." There was a question at the end of his that he did not ask, but Amarien could feel it. He wanted to ask her why?

She made her lips smile in an effort to sooth him, hoping that it would still any further question he might have asked. It was possible she could do as he asked. All of those in the meeting could see her, the only unknown being the man from Bree, that she somehow knew would not be able to. "I can watch the proceeding and give you my thoughts," she offered.

"That is all I ask," Thorin said. "You are a good judge of character, and you need not participate." With a reassuring smile he offered his arm again leading her back to her chamber. "They should be here within the hour. Have you eaten?"

Amarien nodded her head, but felt guilty for the small lie. She usually did not eat; there was little need for it, especially in this form. In fact she was not even sure that she could. Before she was completely aware they were back at her chamber, Thorin opening the door for her and ushering her inside. She busied herself looking through her belongings, all of which were given to her by Thorin. Again she had to still her nervous movements with her hair. It was becoming embarrassing.

This time though, Thorin watched the movement closely, and then approached her, stilling her hands. "Let me," he said quietly, the grip on her hands was warm and gentle as he led her in the nearby chair. Amarien felt as if she would dissipate at any given moment as he began to run a comb through her hair gently. Her nerves were completely frayed at his closeness and the easy at which he began to braid her hair. She was not sure how long he worked, but it could not have been as long as she thought. Time seemed to stretch endlessly forward as she tried to hold her form together. Contradictory to that feeling was the foreign one spreading through her; one that did not want him to finish quickly. "There," he said as he finished, dropping her braided hair into place, the weight of a small bead landing on her back.

Amarien stood and faced him, "Thank you," she said and meant it. Perhaps his work would succeed in stilling her nervous movement.

He smiled then, a smile that reached his eyes and made her heart skip a little as it was so rare. There was something dancing in his eyes, something mischievous. "My pleasure," he said reaching for her hand and brushing his lips across her knuckles. "We will meet in the study within the hour," he said in farewell. Amarien smiled to herself as her door closed with a soft click.

The smiled faded a little as she felt through the braids he placed in her hair and her fingertips settled on the small bead he placed there. With a frown, she brought it around so she could see it, immediately recognizing what it was. It had belonged to his mother. Her heart seized up again before pattering away at an unpredictable pace. Her mind started waging a battle with her emotions. Her thoughts screaming to give it back to him, the butterflies in her stomach telling her to accept it, treasure it.

Amarien was not sure how long she rolled the bead between her fingers, but she knew she needed to get to the study and before anyone else. Pushing the current conundrum from her mind for later, and forcing herself to focus on the upcoming task, she left her chamber. Her resolve strengthened with every step. She needed to be accurate and focused in this meeting. There was more at stake here then her relationship with Thorin. This matter concerned all of her charges.

There were voices already inside the chamber. It sounded as if introduction had already been made. She was late, but perhaps this was better. There was an opportunity to avoid any of the awkwardness that might have come should they chose to introduce her to someone that could not see her. Carefully and as quietly as she could she opened the door and stepped inside. Signaling to Thorin, who had glanced up upon her entrance, to be quiet and ignore her. There was a subtle nod he passed to her as the conversation continued. Amarien settled herself in the far corner of the room, stilling herself, and listened. She let her instincts take over as she focused on the conversation and the stranger in the room, letting her senses guide her in determining if he was a threat or not to her beloved dwarves.

_A:N/ Sorry again for such a long wait. Life has been really busy. Please let me know your thought! It serves only to make the story better. Hope you enjoy!_


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